The Move Out
by Optimist
Summary: Missing scene at the end of "The Distance." What happens when Ryan returns to Theresa's to get his belongings? Please R&R.


**The Move Out**

As the Range Rover pulled up outside the house, Theresa let the curtain fall and steadied herself. As much as she had tried to prepare herself for this moment, she knew it wasn't going to be easy.

Ryan sauntered up to the walkway carrying an empty duffel bag. He squinted against the sun's rays, watching the kids on the street, taking in the unkempt front yard, before he finally reached up to the metal screen door and pulled it open. The creak sent a shiver down Theresa's spine. She sat down in the lazy boy and tried to pretend she was absorbed in her magazine.

"Hello?" Ryan called. He rounded the corner and stopped in the doorway, smiling shyly in her direction.

"Hey," Theresa said.

"Hey." He looked as uneasy as she felt. "Ah...is your mom--?"

"She's out."

Ryan nodded silently, looked away for a moment, then slowly walked toward her. He crouched down on his haunches next to her chair, letting his hand fall upon her knee. "How are you ok? Do you feel ok, I mean, after--" he asked.

"I'm fine, Ryan. A little shaken still, but fine."

"Was there any--" he faltered. "I mean, I understand you have to pass--"

"You're asking if I passed the fetus?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. He nodded.

"I guess I did early on this week. I saw blood and it scared me a bit, but I didn't put two and two together." Theresa's heart started beating loudly as she recited the story she had laid out in her head.

"You didn't say anything."

"Well, I wasn't in pain. And I've heard that a little blood can be normal."

He reached up and took her hand in his. "You weren't in pain?"

"No."

"Good," he sighed, "because I felt pretty helpless. Your calling me in Portland..."

"There wasn't anything you could have done. Besides..." her voice cracked. Damn. She didn't want to show her emotions. She looked away as she tried to collect herself.

He ran his thumb on the back of her hand then looked up at her with intense eyes. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke. "I'm sorry..."

"Look, there's really nothing left to be said. You're free to gather your things and go back to Newport. It's where you belong, Ryan."

Ryan got up and stood by the window. He put his hands on his hips, head down. "I want you to understand..."

"Don't worry. I understand completely. I've actually packed your things for you--you won't need the duffel bag. There are boxes in the room."

He looked at her, surprised, and nodded. "Ok. Ah, I guess, then, I'll--"

"Yeah, pack up the car. I'll help..." she started rising from the chair.

"No, stay. I don't want you to lift anything."

Theresa eased herself back down. Ryan turned toward her bedroom and disappeared through the door, reemerging carrying two stacked boxes, his arms bulging under the weight. She suddenly felt dizzy and closed her eyes. She heard the screen door creak open and slam behind him. Her fingers grasped the sides of the chair as she tried to control her ragged breathing.

"Are you ok?" Ryan asked. She hadn't heard him come back in.

"Yeah," she nodded, avoiding his eyes. He stood there for a moment before coming over and touching her face, just in time to wipe a large tear that fell down her cheek.

"Theresa, you know I didn't want it to be like this."

She thought she was going to vomit, having his face this close to her, knowing she wasn't ever going to kiss his lips again. She fought the instinct to place her hand over her abdomen. "Neither did I," she whispered.

He reached up and touched her hair. "You mean the world to me."

"_Don't_." Theresa was even surprised at the harshness in her voice.

Ryan snatched his hand back. He stood up and backed away. "I'll just get the rest of the boxes..."

He had very few belongings; after one additional trip to the car he was finished. He came back and stood awkwardly in the hallway. "I'll come visit," he hesitated, "I mean, Kristen doesn't seem to mind me borrowing the car. I can..."

"Sure," Theresa said.

"What are you going to do?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, I don't know. Keep waitressing, I guess."

"You could go back to school..."

"Listen, Ryan, I..." Theresa felt like she was about to burst. She had to get him out of there before she lost control and told him the truth.

He seemed to know she needed him to leave. He nodded slowly. "You take care of yourself," he said gently.

Their eyes locked as he backed his way out the door, her insides screaming. She sat frozen as she watched the screen door shut, his shadow in the afternoon sun trailing on the hardwood floor as he walked down the walkway. It was all surreal.

The engine of the Range Rover started and revved, lurching Theresa to her feet. As the sun glinted off the moving windows and reflected into the house, she just made it into the bathroom before spewing the bile that had been building in her stomach. Her body wretched and tears started flowing, mucous coming from her nose and mouth into the toilet. She gasped for air when at last the heaves subsided, and she collapsed on the tile floor against the bathtub, her arms wrapping protectively around her stomach. Her shoulders started to shake and she rocked herself back and forth, blinded by the tears that stung her eyes. She had never felt so alone.


End file.
